poem; hot air
Depression and procrastination leads to random poetry, apparently. also don't forget my last post was for drabble requests, in case you haven't asked for one
Hot Air
She was a like balloon,
Steadily filling up and
Expanding in all directions.
And even though she could feel herself
Begin to stretch too thin,
She still just kept filling up,
Taking in,
Growing larger
And rising higher.
She knew that eventually
She would reach her limit,
And to keep going would surely result
In her own self destruction.
But she decided that ending with
A dramatic bang
Would be far more satisfying than
Simply floating throughout the world,
With no aim or direction,
Only to silently and slowly
Deflate and disappear.
Hot Air
She was a like balloon,
Steadily filling up and
Expanding in all directions.
And even though she could feel herself
Begin to stretch too thin,
She still just kept filling up,
Taking in,
Growing larger
And rising higher.
She knew that eventually
She would reach her limit,
And to keep going would surely result
In her own self destruction.
But she decided that ending with
A dramatic bang
Would be far more satisfying than
Simply floating throughout the world,
With no aim or direction,
Only to silently and slowly
Deflate and disappear.